How to Get Rid of a Bimbo
by musicprincess1990
Summary: Enough is enough! Ginny is convinced that Harry and Hermione belong together. Unfortunately, there's something, or rather someone, standing in her way. Can she get rid of the bottle-blonde bimbo, and bring her two friends together before it's too late? Harmony, but in Ginny's POV. Everything is canon, except the Hinny and Romione romances. Takes place three years after the war.
1. Step by Step Annihilation

A/N: This came out of nowhere. Seriously. Just popped into my head. Tell me what you think!

* * *

_Step one: Make her feel as _un_welcome as possible._

She was beautiful. _Too_ beautiful. Like one of those fake-looking supermodels you see in tabloids or on the telly. Her hair was a creamy blonde that looked _almost_ natural, except that her eyebrows were dark brown, just darker than her eyes. She had a set of perfectly plump lips, under a small, un-freckled nose, and her cheeks held just the right amount of pink to them. She seemed to be a flawless combination of curves and straight lines, everything coming together in just the right way.

Ginny hated her already.

Not that she was jealous, mind. Not really. It wasn't her appearance, or even the man to whom the blonde bimbo was attached, that sent such a fiery anger through her veins. She'd long ago given up the silly schoolgirl fantasy of being with the Boy Who Lived. Harry was nice enough, and certainly attractive, but she looked to him as a sort of brother figure, rather than a potential romantic interest. The same could not be said, however, for the brunette sitting right beside her. Poor Hermione had loved Harry since the day they met (some story or other about a toad and spell to fix his glasses). And now, here he was, shamelessly flaunting this bleached-haired twit in front of her, and everyone else, when they had previously been enjoying a lovely Christmas Eve dinner.

Honestly, it was all she could do not to storm over to him, slap him across the face, and tell him what a clueless tosspot he was being. He and Hermione were _perfect_ for each other. Everyone could see it. Even Ron, who had harbored a crush on her for several years, had eventually come around, and agreed that the two simply _had_ to be together. (This revelation likely had something to do with his sudden interest in a certain dreamy-eyed Ravenclaw, but that was neither here nor there.)

Ginny watched with narrowed eyes as he introduced her to the family. The imposter smiled, but her face barely moved with the action. Only the subtle upturn of her overly-glossed (in Ginny's opinion) lips betrayed any expression other than a blank stare. Her perfectly arched eyebrows remained still, her eyes bordering on a look of bored indifference, or, quite possibly, pretentious disdain. How _dare_ she? Ginny was proud to be part of this ragtag clan of a family. They weren't rich, they weren't famous, but they all loved each other, and would undoubtedly support one another, in good times or bad. They'd certainly had their share of bad times, hadn't they? What with the war and all...

"Gin?"

"Yeah?" she snapped back to the present, and found the impudent woman standing right in front of her. Ginny suppressed the urge to hiss.

"This is Chelsea Jones," Harry introduced her, "my girlfriend. Chelsea, this is Ginny, my adopted sister," he added with a wink. Ginny stuck her tongue out briefly at him, before reluctantly turning back to the blonde.

Chelsea gave that same fake smile. "Nice to meet you," she purred, then held out a limp hand for Ginny to shake. Ginny stared at it. _You've got to be kidding_. Her skin was almost translucently pale, and each finger bore a perfectly manicured nail. She obviously had never had to do even a lick of housework all her life, magic or no.

_Okay, enough is enough! This bint is going down!_ Ginny fought back a smirk as a plan formed in her mind. Grasping her fish-hand more firmly than was strictly necessary, she gave it one hard shake, nearly ripping her arm out of socket. "_Ow!_" she cried out in dismay, retracting her hand as if she'd just touched something slimy.

"Welcome to the Burrow!" Ginny said, feigning enthusiasm. "You're going to love it here! Just as long as you don't shower the same time as anyone else, and you don't step on any of the garden gnomes. Oh, and you should probably stay away from the attic. Nelson, the family ghoul, stays up there, and he doesn't like to be disturbed."

Her eyes grew wide. "Y-you have a _ghoul?_" she asked, a fearful tremor in her voice.

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry muttered sarcastically. "Anyway, moving on! This is my best friend, Hermione Granger."

Hermione was the picture of friendliness and good manners, but Ginny could see the sadness deep in her eyes. _Poor Hermione_. Ginny vowed that, somehow, some way, she would see her and Harry together. And nothing, not even Fish-Hands McBimbo was going to get in her way.

* * *

_Step two: Make her seem like an intruder—which she is._

After the introductions, they resumed their dinner, Mum insisting that Harry and Chelsea have a full plate, despite their insistence that they'd already eaten. Ginny wanted to wring her neck for the way she wrinkled her nose at the potatoes and ham and shepherd's pie placed in front of her. Honestly, what did she expect, foie gras on a silver platter? This was a family dinner, not a night at the Pied à Terre!

Ginny watched her closely, while still holding a conversation with every other person on the table, and making eye contact with each one. She was nothing if not a great multitasker. During her observations, she noted that she didn't take a single bite. She just pushed her food around the plate for the most part, and a few times, lifted a mouthful, held it up for a moment, waited until she thought no one was looking, and put it back on her plate.

Beyond offended, Ginny said loudly, "That must have been some dinner you had before you came here, Chelsea. You've hardly touched your food."

Chelsea's cheeks turned bright red. "I, er... well, yes."

"Oh, pish," Mum chortled. "There's always room for more."

"Not always, Mum," Ginny rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"It's... it's delicious, Mrs. Weasley," Chelsea said carefully, and Ginny fought the urge to call her a liar. How could she know it was delicious when she hadn't eaten it? "But I'm afraid I... overdid it at our last dinner. I don't mean to be rude, but I'd hate to spoil your evening by becoming sick."

_Cunning little minx_, she growled in her mind. _Well played, but I'll get you next time_.

Switching tactics, Ginny addressed Harry. "Do you remember the Christmas just after the war? We gorged ourselves on all that pie, and nearly lost it all in the bins out in the garden?"

Harry chuckled, obviously recalling the incident. "Yes! You and Ron both turned a lovely shade of puce."

"Oi!" Ron chimed in. "You were a right sight yourself, mate! You were paler than Nearly-Headless Nick! Kept moaning about 'bad huckleberries.'"

"Merlin, if I never live to see another huckleberry pie in my life, I'll die a very happy man. No offense, Molly," he added quickly.

Mum laughed. "Well, it was your own fault."

"Yes, I know," he said with a sheepish grin. "Your cooking is always amazing. My own poor judgment was my downfall."

"In more ways than one," Ginny muttered under her breath.

Hermione finally joined the conversation with a laugh. "I'll say! With you, it's all go, go, go, and think later. It's a wonder you didn't get expelled in first year!"

"As I recall, Miss Granger," he turned to her, "you were right alongside me through every incident, telling me exactly which rules we _all_ were breaking."

"Hush, you," she glared playfully.

"And wasn't it you who lied to Professor McGonagall to save our necks after we knocked out that mountain troll?"

Ginny watched as Harry continued to recount the many occasions in which he'd been reckless, and she had been right next to him. She felt herself smiling as she saw the sparks flying between them, and her smile widened as she saw Chelsea glowering at her plate. _Ha_, she thought triumphantly. Her plan was unfolding splendidly.

The conversation died down, and Harry turned back to Chelsea. They whispered back and forth to one another in that way that lovers do. Ginny saw movement in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Hermione excuse herself from the table. As she left, she thought she could see tears running down her face. All the satisfaction she'd felt moments ago melted, and was replaced by a renewed determination to see her two best friends together and happy.

* * *

_Step three: Attempt to reason with the dumb sod who brought her._

Long after dinner was over and the rest of the house had gone to bed, Ginny could hear a tinkling laugh, mingled with Harry's familiar guffaw. Suppressing a groan, she cautiously meandered her way down the stairs, stepping quietly into the kitchen. She hoped the bottle-blonde wouldn't suddenly become hungry and venture to find a late night snack, like Ginny was doing. Then again... glancing down at her current attire—a holey tank top and a pair of short-shorts—what? The house was warm enough—the more conniving part of her almost hoped she _would_.

As Ginny began buttering a slice of bread, she heard footsteps coming closer, and both Harry and his... unfortunate attachment appeared in the doorway. Unashamed, Ginny smiled at the pair, inwardly sniggering at Chelsea's obvious shock. Harry, of course, didn't care in the least. He'd seen her in a bikini during a spontaneous summer getaway the summer following the war.

"Evening, you two," she greeted cordially. "Off to bed, are you? I can't sleep myself. My room's right below the attic, and that damn ghoul keeps banging on the pipes."

None of this was a lie, but Ginny, having lived in the same room her entire life, and also having grown up with six older brothers, had developed the ability to sleep through just about anything. Of course, Chelsea didn't know that, and she sincerely hoped that Harry didn't, either. Regrettably, his expression told her he'd caught onto her lie, but he wasn't going to call her out on it.

"The g-ghoul?" Chelsea squeaked.

"He's harmless," Harry said soothingly. "Besides, you'll be with Hermione, and she's the smartest witch I know. She knows every spell there is, and can cast them all with ease. You'll be perfectly safe."

Ginny didn't miss how Chelsea bristled when Harry referred to Hermione as the "smartest witch he knew," but she didn't dwell on it. She was too busy being angry with him for shoving poor Hermione with the dense little twit. But she held back her reproach, waiting until said twit had left the room. It took all her strength not to heave at the sight of the two of them kissing each other good night. She managed to turn away at just the right time, appearing as though she were giving them privacy, when in reality, she was trying to hide her grimace.

After several moments and lots of disgusting snogging noises, she heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Then Harry cleared his throat. Donning an innocent expression, Ginny turned around. "Oh! You're still here, Harry!" she grinned. "I thought you'd have gone up with Chelsea."

"Drop the act, Ginevra." She scowled at his use of her full name. Harry ignored it, and crossed his arms, giving her a pointed look. "You and I both know you could sleep through bloody Armageddon. What are you up to?"

Ginny paused, wavering. Should she lie to him, despite the very distinct possibility that he would see through her again? Or should she just tell him the truth? But how would he take the truth? Deciding that it was worth a shot, she took a deep breath, and braced herself for his reaction.

"Harry... I know that you've had a hard time, harder than anyone else. I know your life has been sad and lonely and filled with heartbreak. And I can certainly see why you would want to be with someone who erases all that heartbreak. But honestly, I think Chelsea is completely wrong for you."

His eyebrows shot up. "Is that so?"

She didn't like his sarcastic tone. "Yes, that's so."

"Then who, pray tell, do you think _is_ right for me?"

Ginny paled; plan or no plan, she hadn't received permission from Hermione to talk to Harry about this. "That's not important," she hedged. "What's important is that Chelsea _isn't_."

"Look, Ginny... I'm flattered you feel this way, but I look at you like a sister."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, my God! You think _I_ want to be with you?"

"Well, what else could it be? You're treating my girlfriend like she's some kind of two-cent tramp, trying to scare her off, practically attacked her at dinner—"

"I did _not!_"

"Then why did you go and point out the fact that she hadn't eaten?"

"Because she hadn't! I was making conversation!"

"Did it ever occur to you that she wasn't eating because she _couldn't_?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I heard the sob story. She was too _full_."

"No, she's allergic to gluten."

That was unexpected. She stared at him. "She... what?"

"She's allergic to gluten. Anything with gluten makes her physically ill. _That's_ why she didn't eat. She didn't want to tell anybody because she's insecure about it."

Ginny felt rather sick herself. "Oh."

"'Oh'?" Harry quoted incredulously. "That's all you can say?" She shrugged, and he groaned in exasperation, rubbing his eyes. "Ginny... I understand you're jealous, but that doesn't give you the right to judge—"

"Bloody hell, I'm not _jealous_! I don't think of you that way, either!"

He scoffed. "Really?"

"I may have, once, years ago, but that was more a little girl's silly fantasy. I think of you as a brother—though Merlin knows I don't actually need another one."

Harry frowned. "Then why?"

Her face paled again. "Just... because."

"No, that's not good enough, Gin. I want a real reason _why_ you've suddenly taken it upon yourself to tear Chelsea and me apart." His arms crossed again. "I'm waiting."

Ginny swallowed thickly, but refused to give in. It wasn't her secret to tell, after all, and she wasn't about to betray Hermione's confidence like that. "There is someone who loves you very much," she said. "It's not me, but it's someone who knows you very well, and would do anything for you."

"Who?"

"If you don't know the answer to that, then you don't deserve her, and you should just resign yourself to a half-empty life." With that, Ginny took her nearly-forgotten bread and butter, and took the stairs two at a time. She'd planted the seeds. The rest was up to him.

* * *

_Step four: If the above steps fail, resignation is in order. And a smidgen of pouting._

Ginny kept to herself throughout the day. Even when the whole family had gathered around the Christmas tree for the traditional opening of presents, she remained quiet and pensive. Her immediate family knew better than to question it; they knew that she couldn't be pulled out of this sort of mood by anyone else. Trying would only result in an argument, and, possibly, a well-aimed bat-bogey hex.

In her silence, Ginny observed. She watched her siblings play and romp around like children—which, to be honest, wasn't anything new. She watched Harry and Chelsea, and slowly began to accept that, even if their relationship wasn't permanent, they were together for the duration. Nothing she could do was going to break them up.

Honestly, why had she even tried? Had she really sunk so low? She felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. If Harry was happy, she shouldn't question it. And besides, how did she know Chelsea was as idiotic as she seemed? Maybe it was a sort of defense mechanism or something. Maybe she just put on the façade because she was afraid to show the real her. The thought made Ginny sad. No one should ever be scared to be who they are.

But mostly, she watched Hermione. Buried in a book as always, the brunette seemed for all the world perfectly content. However, Ginny could see the sorrow deep within her eyes, and she noticed that those eyes were unnaturally still. Normally, when she read, her eyes flitted back and forth across the pages, eagerly drinking in every last ounce of information to be had. Now, they were quite determinedly focused on the center of the tome, and she hadn't turned a single page in ten minutes.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right," she replied without so much as a glance away from the book in her hands. "Why wouldn't I be all right?"

Ginny sighed. "Just checking."

After a few minutes of internal debate, she decided to go outside. The cold December air might help to clear her head. Donning her coat and scarf, Ginny pushed out into the frigid afternoon wind. She walked around the perimeter of the house, then came to a stop when she heard voices. Squinting in the bright light, she spotted Harry and Chelsea standing a few yards away from the house, deep in conversation. Judging by the serious looks on both their faces, it wasn't an altogether pleasant conversation.

Against her better judgment (ha! _What_ better judgment?), Ginny pulled out her wand and cast a hasty Disillusionment charm, and made her way closer. She was grateful for the lack of snow on the ground, which would have made her use of the camouflage spell rather pointless. As it was, the grass, though limp and brown from the cold, still showed plainly. Little by little, she came closer, stopping when she could make out what they were saying.

"...didn't realize I was intruding here."

"Chelsea, come on," Harry pleaded. "You're not intruding! You're my girlfriend!"

"But where is your heart, really?" she asked tersely.

He floundered for a bit, but answered, "It's with you. Of course it's with you."

Chelsea shook her head, and tears pooled in her eyes. "No, Harry. As much as I wish that were true, it's obvious you lost your heart to someone else a long time ago. And I wouldn't dream of coming between you and her."

Ginny quickly stepped to the side as Chelsea started toward the house, not wanting her position to be revealed. But before she could get very far, Harry had caught her by the forearm, and was pulling her gently back to him. Ginny moved to where she could see both their faces. Harry's was pained, pleading, and very confused. Chelsea wore an expression of reluctant acceptance.

"Chelsea, please," he whispered, almost begging. "I want to be with you."

She sighed. "I really want to believe that. But it's obvious, Harry. It's obvious she got there first."

"Who?" he demanded. "Who is it you're so sure has 'taken my heart'?"

Chelsea gave a sad, watery laugh. "Oh, Harry... you'll figure it out. I just hope you don't take too long. We girls don't like to wait forever, you know," she added with another laugh.

"But... Chelsea..."

"It's all right," she said through her tears, then placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I wouldn't be leaving if I weren't absolutely sure she loves you, too."

"_Who?_"

Smiling, Chelsea squeezed his hand. "Tell Mrs. Weasley I'm sorry. And be sure to thank Ginny. She's a good friend. Even if her methods are a bit... unorthodox."

Ginny felt herself blush. So Chelsea had seen right through her "clever" ploys. She wasn't the dense bimbo she'd assumed her to be. At that moment, Ginny even had a bit of respect for her. She'd have to apologize to her one day. But right now, there were more important things to think about. For instance, the fact that Chelsea had disapparated, and Harry was now standing still, gazing numbly into the now-empty space in front of him. She debated whether or not she should make herself known, and talk to him about what she'd heard. Maybe help him piece together the puzzle both she and Chelsea had left for him.

"_Oh_."

Then again, maybe she didn't need to.

Harry's eyes grew wide, the vibrant green sparkling with understanding. "_Oh!_" he said again, then turned to look at the house. Ginny followed him, stomach churning with anticipation, as he raced back inside, through the kitchen, and into the living room, where Hermione still sat, her nose in the same book. Ginny took careful steps, moving to the corner, narrowly missing the tree. She smiled to herself as Harry's expression changed... softened... into one of utter adoration. And his eyes were trained on the brown-haired witch on the sofa.

_Go on, Harry_, she willed him silently. _Go get her!_

"H-Hermione?" he stammered, his voice breaking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Er... Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?" she replied, staring fixedly at her book.

"Can I... can I talk to you?"

Obviously hearing the uncertainty in his tone, she looked up at him. As always, her concern for Harry overpowered any sadness she might be feeling. And this was why she was perfect for him. "Is everything all right?"

Harry swallowed hard. "I, er... I'm not sure."

"You look pale. Are you feeling all right? Come and sit down." With almost motherly concern—_almost_—she stood and guided him to the couch. He obliged, his eyes never straying from her. Tucking a bookmark into the book to save her place, Hermione closed it and set it aside. "Now, tell me what's wrong?"

Ginny held her breath as he struggled to find the words. "Well... erm... Chelsea and I broke up just now."

Hermione's shock was evident, and Ginny thought she saw a bit of relief, but she hid it well, that worried expression never leaving her face. "Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. Was she upset about something? I could tell she wasn't very comfortable."

"She wasn't upset," he shook his head. "Well, not exactly. Actually, she kind of was, but it had nothing to do with... it wasn't... oh, bugger..." He leaned his forearms on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

"What was she upset about?"

Harry sat up slowly, and looked at Hermione. His brow furrowed, and a pink tinge appeared in his cheeks before he shot up from the couch. "Merlin, why is this so bloody _difficult?_"

Ginny wanted to pat his shoulder sympathetically, but the desire to remain hidden overpowered that urge.

"Why is _what_ so difficult? Harry, talk to me."

"That's just it," he said, and began pacing the room. Ginny retreated further into the corner, eliminating the danger of being run over. "That's what's difficult. Talking to you. And it's never been so hard before! I've always been able to talk to you, no matter what! Why now? Why all of a sudden... but then, I know why," he added with a laugh. "I know why, and—oh, Merlin! She knew why, too! God, I've been stupid!"

Hermione stared at him. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Well, she knew, didn't she? She knew, even when I didn't! Hell, I think even Ginny knew! And _that's_ why... oh, that must have been who she was talking about!"

_Good boy_, she thought slyly.

"Harry, calm down. Let's discuss this rationally."

"And I just scampered about like a blooming idiot, thinking I'd finally found it, when all along, it was right next to me!"

"_What_ was right next to you?"

"You, of course!"

Ginny bit her lip to force down a squeal of delight. Hermione's eyes widened. "Me?"

"Yes! Oh, Hermione, I've been so completely blind." In two quick strides, he was in front of her, cradling her face in his hands. "I don't know how I missed it. It really was obvious, just like she said."

"What was obvious?" she asked breathlessly.

He smiled down at her. "She said I'd lost my heart a long time ago. And she was absolutely right. I lost it to _you_. You've held it, without my knowledge, for the better part of the last ten years. I only hope I didn't realize it too late." He swallowed again, then, in a low, pleading voice, "Please say you'll be mine. Please say you love me as much as I love you."

Tears were streaming down Hermione's face. "You love me?"

"Very much," he nodded. "I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. But I am truly, completely, madly in love with you, Hermione Granger."

She made a sort of strangled laugh/sob, then whispered, "I love you, too."

Ginny watched with tears in her own eyes as the two shared their first kiss. It was a beautiful sight to behold. After a few moments, she tiptoed past them and made her way up the stairs, removing the charm as she went. When she made it to her room, she collapsed onto her bed, giggling with excitement.

_Oh, finally..._

* * *

_Step five: Once the dumb sod finally sees reason, sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labors. And be sure to gloat a little._

* * *

A/N: What do you think? I might add some more to this, but I'm not sure. I kind of like it the way it is. But I want to know your thoughts! Leave a review!


	2. Epilogue: The Maker of Matches

A/N: After careful consideration, I have decided to write an epilogue. This really will be the ending, though, nothing more after this. I got the idea from a reviewer (just goes to show why you should ALWAYS review!), so thanks to Guest, who suggested this particular plot line. Enjoy!

* * *

Ginny Weasley was in utter raptures—and no, it had nothing to do with the pint of firewhiskey she had consumed (well, it didn't have _much_ to do with that). Currently, she was in the Grand Hall at the Ministry of Magic, with hundreds of other witches and wizards, celebrating the start of a new year—another year without threats or death or war. Voices all around her counted down the final seconds before midnight, and as they reached zero, cheers and fireworks erupted throughout the hall.

Smiling to herself, Ginny retreated to a chair along the edge to watch the festivities, or, more accurately, to watch a certain couple enjoying said festivities. Harry and Hermione had been a couple for just a week, and already, Ginny could see that the two were happier than they'd ever been. They complimented each other; Harry with all his gusto and courage, Hermione with her sense and rationality. And they clearly adored each other. Ginny had no doubts that, very soon, they would be celebrating their wedding. She could hardly wait.

"You'd think they were the only ones in the room, wouldn't you?"

Turning toward the voice, Ginny was surprised to see Chelsea Jones standing a few feet away, a vision in her shimmery crimson ball gown, blonde hair piled perfectly on top of her head. Her eyes were trained on the very same pair Ginny was watching, a pensive expression on her face.

Squirming, Ginny looked back at them. "Yeah. They're like that all the time."

"I'm sure they are," Chelsea laughed, moving to sit beside Ginny. "They really are perfect for each other."

"Er... yeah."

"You were right to try and break us up, Ginny."

She felt the color drain from her face. "I—"

"It's okay," Chelsea smiled. "To be honest, I'd figured out I wasn't really the most important woman in Harry's life long before I even met Hermione. He talked about her constantly. At first, I just tried to convince myself that it was because they'd been through so much together. But when I saw them together at Christmas, the way they looked at each other... I couldn't deny it any longer."

Ginny gnawed guiltily on her lip. "You know, Chelsea... for what it's worth, I am very sorry for being so rude to you."

Chelsea shrugged. "You were concerned for your friend, and I was in the way."

"That doesn't excuse my behavior," she insisted. "I should have been kinder to you, especially since I knew nothing about you."

"Really, Ginny, it's forgotten," the blonde smiled. "You don't need to apologize."

They fell into silence, turning their eyes to Harry and Hermione, who were locked in an embrace that was slightly less than appropriate for a public place. Ginny grinned, feeling indescribably happy for them.

"Er, Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"I just have one quick question for you."

She turned to her. "Okay."

Chelsea gestured with her head to something behind her. "Who's that?"

Ginny scanned the crowd for a bit, her eyes eventually landing on the person she must have been referring to. Dean Thomas was standing, his eyes fixed on Chelsea with a look of curiosity and... was that longing?

"That," she said with a smile, "is Dean Thomas, an excellent guy with a fondness for Quidditch and, as far as I know, absolutely no attachments whatsoever."

Chelsea giggled, and made her way over to Dean. Ginny watched as they engaged in pleasant conversation, their interest in each other clearly showing. They would be good together.

For the second time in under ten minutes, a voice startled her, this one male: "So I suppose you fancy yourself a brilliant matchmaker, do you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "And a happy new year to you, Malfoy," she grumbled. "What do you want?"

"I want you to answer my question," he said plainly, moving to take the seat Chelsea had just left vacant.

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again. "I like to think I have a hand in steering people in the right direction. I helped my brother pursue Luna Lovegood. I was directly involved in getting Harry and Hermione together. And now look! Chelsea is happily chatting with Dean, who is excellent boyfriend material. So yeah, I guess I do fancy myself a great matchmaker." She glared at him. "Got a problem with that?"

"Just one," he replied.

"Oh, really?" Ginny laughed incredulously. "Well, by all means, enlighten me."

"Who do _you_ get matched with?"

She blinked in surprise. "I... what?"

"You heard me," he said evenly, his gaze piercing her. "When the great Maker of Matches has finished pairing her friends together, who does she go home to?"

Ginny stared at him. "I, er... I don't have anybody."

He frowned. "And how is that fair?"

Annoyed, she pointed a finger at him. "Okay, first of all, I'm not doing this for my own satisfaction. I do it because I want my friends to be happy. Second of all, life isn't fair, and anyone who thinks otherwise is in serious need of a reality check. And third of all, I don't need some bloke in order to feel complete. I'm perfectly happy on my own, and if I do find someone someday, it'll be because we like being together, not because we _need _each other, or feel _lost_ without each other. Capisce?"

Malfoy gazed at her through narrowed eyes. "So you'd be perfectly happy living your whole life without anyone by your side?"

"That's right," she said stubbornly, though the thought didn't sit well with her. Sure, she didn't _need_ anyone, but that didn't mean she didn't _want_ someone.

He chuckled. "You're incredibly obstinate, aren't you?"

"Hey, I—"

"But despite that, I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink with me."

Her jaw dropped. "You were _what?_"

Malfoy smirked at her. "No tricks, no insults, just two people having a drink and enjoying each other's company. What do you say?"

Ginny was sure she'd lost her mind. Not only was she actually considering his offer, she found herself looking at the blond boy with a favorable eye. His hair fell across his forehead in a devil-may-care sort of way, and his stormy grey eyes, which were normally cold and cutting, were now twinkling with mischief. Undeniably fascinated with him, she abandoned all common sense.

"I'd love to."

He grinned and stood, holding out a hand to her. Curiosity prevailed, and she took the offered hand, allowing him to lead her toward the bar. Something about him pulled her in, and as they drank and conversed, she found herself actually enjoying herself. _Who knows?_ she mused. _Maybe this matchmaker has found _her_ match._

She rather liked the idea.

* * *

A/N: I'm not so sure about that ending. I'll probably tweak it a little later. But here's the epilogue! Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed!


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